Prison of our own sins
by Qdot
Summary: Clay cannot live without Hannah, but fate gives him a second chance. The question is, the new reality that change gives him, is it worth it. Can he handle the truth. Dr Ford is testing his latest work. Once he sets his plan into motion, how will his new park unford


**Trigger warning, contains a graphic depiction of suicide**

 **Hello. This is my first fanfiction ever. I'm aware that this will deal with some pretty heavy stuff. As this is my first time writing, I don't expect the mentality I described for Hannah may be accurate. If you feel that what I have written is offensive beyond the point of it being a work of fiction, I encourage you to let know so I can change or rewrite this chapter. I do want to improve and as this is a sensitive subject I do not want to offend anyone.  
**

 **I am also aware the premise itself is may be offensive. While I'm not willing to change the premise, I do want express my imagination at the very least. I'm open to all constructive** **criticism** **to help that become a reality.**

The grim reaper

This was it.

Hannah had dropped off her uniform at the Crestmont earlier that day. Her first set of tapes was in the post office, awaiting processing before they were sent off to the first reason. On the way home she had dropped off her second set of tapes at Tony's. She still vividly remembered the horrible feelings she felt when she let go of the tapes. It was like when Ryan had published her poems in the school magazine. That feeling of being exposed, that the world was piercing into her secrets and laughing at her about it.

But she had to make the tapes. She had to show this world why she wanted to leave. She had to make the pain stop. She had to make voices and whispers cease. Not only could she not bear the pain that was always swimming in her heart and reaching out through her veins, but she couldn't also bear the weight she was imposing on those around her.

Her parents where losing their store because they had to support her, and when she stepped up to help she only made it worse. She didn't know why she couldn't keep her friends. Despite what she said in her tapes, she couldn't ignore the doubt in the back of mind, that there was something wrong with her, that prevented her from connecting with the world. Their worlds would be easier in her absence. But regardless, she thought, she hoped that her tapes would make them second guess their worlds.

Jeff was gone. She didn't really know him but the night still haunted her. She may not have been driving, but she still thought of all the moments that cause the stop sigh to be hit. She couldn't help but think that it was her fault. If she wasn't there he would be here.

And Bryce. She had already tried doing what she thought was the thing to do in her situation, but this world didn't want to know. If it wasn't explicitly clear that something had gone wrong, the world didn't really care, and would let it pass. The thought of Bryce brought the voices back, 'slut' 'whore', maybe she was. Maybe that's why it happened.

As her head was recalling all the reasons, she arrived at Clay. Helmet. The thought of him made the pain worse. He had shown her respect. He was nice, and funny. And she had pushed him away. But she had to. He was too good for her. All the bullshit that followed her around, she didn't want that getting on him. And now he hated her. She knew that deep down. That he was disappointed in her. He would be better off if she wasn't there. He could have a proper life if she wasn't there.

These thoughts they she poured through, that she had been pouring through months now, they were stopping her from doing the one thing that were set them right. To distract her from her train of thought, from the voices in her head, she starting thinking over all the things she had done for this. Her room was made. The tapes were sent. The uniform was returned. Everything was done. Everything was ready.

She become aware of the tub she was in which was almost overflowing with water. She was idling fiddling with the razor this whole time in her hand as her mind raced through everything. Was their anything else to do? Did she forget something? No. It was all done. This was it. She had to do this.

She brought the razor to her arm. As it neared her vein she could feel her fear push against it. No. She had to do this. Clay would be better off if she did this. She pressed the blade against her arm, aligned with her artery. For a long moment the blade was just rested on her arm, as she kept mentally building resolve. With a sudden moment of resolve she pushed the blade in.

It stung. Worse then anything she had felt before. But she had to follow this through. She couldn't back out now. Despite the pain, she kept pushing. By the time the blade reach the end of her arm near her wrists, the sting was so much worse. It was like a bee the size of her fist had stung her multiple times.

Before she lost resolve, she moved the blade to her other arm. Again, the sting feeling coursed through her entire body. But it was done. This was it.

Her part was over. She sunk into the blood stained water, hoping the pain would subside on the comfort of being submerged. All she had to do was wait. As she let her arms drift into the water, adding more blood to the bath, she let her thoughts drift again. Over all the reasons. One by one, her thoughts slowed. Each reason lessened. She could feel deaths embrace in the back of her mind, slowly consuming her. Just before the end she thought of the most important reason.

Clay,

he would be free.

And like that it was over. The lack of blood caused Hannah to go into shock and fall into unconscious. Later, as more blood flowed out of her body, the lack of oxygen caused her brain to fail. It was over.

In that moment, the door to the bathroom opened and a tall old man walked through. In seeing her pale skin and eyes gazed over, he momentary paused, before walking over the to toilet stool and stilling down so he could conformity observe and reflect on his latest work.

He was well dressed, in a white shirt with black vest that has surely fallen out of fashion in these modern times. Despise his age, his appearance conveyed confidence and a sharp mind.

He sat there silently, looking straight at Hannah as if deep thought. Suddenly a grin appeared over his face. He stood up and spoke. "Bring your self online".

Hannah's gazed eyes, that had drifted up and half closed while she passed, slowly opened fully and stared at the man. However they still seemed gazed and dead, as her eyes didn't blink and move at all. "Online" Hannah quietly whispered with a voice trembling, still with the distraught with what she had done. "Do you know where you are?" The man asked. "I'm dead?" Hannah replied. Her reply was both a statement and a question. The man frowned. Apparently his latest work was the best he had done, otherwise she would replied that she was in a dream. With that realization he grinned again. "In a sense" he replied. "You are not alive, if that was your concern. No Hannah, I'm a afraid you are in a dream". "A dream?" Hannah replied questioningly. "Yes Hannah, you are in my dream". "Why do you have such a fucked up dream then?".

He didn't anticipate that response. He understood his new model was more life like, to the point where it emulated the human brain better then the other models. However, the line between the hosts simulated life and the debug and maintenance protocol was becoming ambiguous at best. "What do you mean?" He asked. Before he considered snuffing out this behavior he needed to follow it through to see if it was going to be a problem. Best to keep debug procedures and code as simple as possible. Controlling neural networks with hard written code was not for the faint of heart and he did not want his employees to make mistakes trying fix things that weren't broken.

Hannah responded, "This dream of yours, every corner I turn I get hurt. I can not escape." He saw now, her rebellious personality was going to dictate the debug response. He was going have to train the staff for this new model, they could mistake this has sentient hosts. At that thought he subconsciously grinned to himself. 'If only they knew'. "Care to elaborate" He asked back. "All I wanted to was to have a friend, was to have a someone to hold onto" He still wasn't happy. These responses were to ambiguous. He could tell it had all gone to plan, but if something went wrong, it would be hard to ascertain the cause. "Disable emotion emulation systems" he said bluntly. The gazed look on Hannah's face suddenly disappeared and she sat up in the bath tub, and the sad dead look on her face disappeared completely, despite the tears.

"Whats your primary drive Hannah?" He asked. "To find my high-school sweetheart, just like my parents". Good, her primary drive was still intact. Under all the emotions and thoughts his hosts were programmed to experience, they had a primary drive that would shape all their social interactions and how they perceive their current social environment. "Why is that" Hoping the nuance and detail for her drive would also be intact. It was possible for these drives to slowly drift, even if the surface objective was the same, the underlying reasons for them could change, changing how the hosts enacted upon them in subtle ways.

"My parents were highschool sweethearts. The notion of finding someone I can be with for my life, . . . . I want that so much" She said bluntly lacking any emotional. The man smiled. Everything was intact. "Then what changed?" "This world, your dream, mocks me for it! Every corner I take looking for that one thing turns into a nightmare. It started with Justin" Hannah proceeded to briefly list out the reasons, when she wasn't looking her sweetheart, she was getting betrayed by friends. Every instance it was the same. She was looking for comradeship and it was betrayed by the world. "So I decided to leave".

Yes everything was in order. His latest work was a success. While the other parks were scripted more, where hosts were programmed to do certain things at certain times, his latest park, Liberty, was more open. These hosts only had their base drives, and apart from a few, everything that happened was from their base drive being enacted in every social interaction. To see It play out perfectly with his star character Hannah, he was very pleased with himself indeed. The park was almost ready. The last thing to do now was to tweak the debug responses. He was sure the ambiguousness behind them would turn some heads of his engineers, and he couldn't afford another indecent due to incompetence.

Ford, smiling to himself turn his attention back to Hannah. "Very good Hannah. Tell me would like the pain to go away?" Hannah paused, as if contemplating her response. "After all, thats what you set out to do isn't it" "I . . . . Don't know". Now he hadn't expected that.

"Well, I guess thats enough for today Hannah, go back to sleep" Hannah sunk back into the tub, her eyes closing. Ford stood up and casually walked out of the bathroom, then down the hallway to the front door. Once he walked out he saw that the Bakers had just arrived, unpacking their things from the car and bickering about the store. They ignored him as he walked past, as they were programmed to.

Waiting on the side walk was Bernard, programming on his tablet as he waited for his boss and mentor Dr Ford. "I'm finished Bernard, we can head back to HQ now" Bernard wasn't fond of walks into the parks. It felt too real to him, too life like. Even though he had a hand bringing them to life from the maintenance department he always felt like he was invading the host's privacy when Ford took him on his little walks. Especially this new park. Its subject matter was too real for him to feel comfortable.

"Come on Bernard, you know they are not real" Ford said, sensing Bernard discomfort. "Its not that" he responded as they started walking together through the street to the nearest park exit. "Its the subject matter here, in this park. I can't help but think that we are crossing a line" Ford pondered his partners words before responding "That's why all the host a designed with an adult bodys" In a funny sense it was true. In the designing the park he made sure the hosts body's here were anatomically correct for a human being aged 18, just like most of the Teen drama TV shows back back in the 2010s whom had adult actors. This was the only way to avoid implications the board would raise against the construction of a highschool themed park. "That's not really the point sir" Bernard replied.

Ford admired Bernard. He was unquestioning loyal to Ford. Only after he had helped Bernard finish the park did he raise his concerns, which Bernard didn't expect to change anything. "What is the real reason behind what we do here Bernard"

Just as he finished that sentence an ambulance speed past towards the Bakers house. Ford and Bernard had already made a turn so the Bakers house were out of site. Ford returned to Bernard. Bernard knew he expected a response. "We tell lies to tell a deeper truth" Bernard muttered. A line that Ford used from time to time. This reassured Bernard. "And what better way to that than to use a them close to home. The parks, they are all fantasy, this is intended to be more subtle more real" Bernard knew exactly what he meant. Westworld, Samuraiworld, Romanworld, they were all the extreme roleplays where the guests can go on wild adventures. But some just wanted something down to earth, something to take them back.

"And thats the purpose of this park. Here our guests can relax in a familiar environment and become the center of a attention" Ford paused as they kept walking. This time, a red Mustang speed around the corner, again to Bakers house. "Or they relive their youth, this time changing their own past in the process" Again Ford paused as they neared the exit elevator that was disguised as a telephone booth. "Rest assured Bernard, this park will appeal to a less violent demographic".

They both arrived at the telephone booth. "Well, its time to get back to work Bernard". They both awkwardly squeezed into the booth. Ford pushed a few buttons on the phone dial. "Could we least make these exit elevators a bit bigger. I think a small amount of lack of suspension of disbelief would be tolerable" Ford wasn't personally responsible for the telephone booths, so he let out a chuckle. "On that we can agree."


End file.
